Counting Stars and Memories
by irmaida
Summary: "She looks up at the ceiling. Counts the dots. Tries to forget. She can't forget." Ginny after Harry breaks up with her at the end of the sixth book. Harry/Ginny.


Counting Stars and Memories

"She was really cut up when you ended it—" –Ron in _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_, page 117

* * *

_present day_

She looks up at the ceiling. Counts the dots. Tries to forget.

She can't forget.

_those days of only me [before]_

Her "obsession" with the Boy Who Lived begins when she's seven, really. She picks up the magazine in the Healer's office, waiting for her brothers' check-ups to be over and flips over to the feature article. And right there is a picture of none other than Harry Potter, as a young boy. A name she's heard many times before, but never been given details about. Her parents usually gave her the watered down version of the story when she asked: details about the Dark Lord and killing curses were too violent for a little girl, they thought. And in this magazine article, she learns everything. And then, instead of getting scared, she gets fascinated.

After that, she begins asking. Fred and George will usually tell her _anything _when she asks. And she learns that the Boy Who Lived is really just _one _year over her and in Ron's grade, and therefore she has a chance with him.

Her other friends all have crushes on famous Quidditch players, but not Ginny. Quidditch is nice. And the players are impressive. But she keeps her crush on the Boy Who Lived, thinking of him as _her _Boy Who Lived, and doodles hearts in her notebook and reads magazines and drills her brothers for details. She dreams about him, both in daydreams and nightdreams. An innocent, if slightly obsessive, schoolgirl celebrity crush, that's how it begins.

Except it doesn't really go away.

_those days of only me [after]_

She's been dumped.

For noble reasons, of course. But dumped nonetheless. And while she understands his logic and everything, and realizes that if she rebels it will only make things even harder for Harry, she still wants it. Forget the world. Can't she just be a selfish fifteen year old girl enjoying her life for once? But no. She supposes it was what she was signing up for, when she fell in love with Harry, but somehow even though she knew, it hurts. So much. Like she's been socked in the stomach and left breathless.

_You survived for almost eight years crushing on this boy before he finally asked you out. You can handle it. You can handle it_, she reminds herself. In a sadistic way, she's glad she's at a funeral because she has an excuse to cry. And she sits on a chair by herself and sneaks a glance at Harry, who is with Ron and Hermione. And she could tell that the other two were not getting a it's-too-dangerous speech. Of course not. Never Ron and Hermione. Just her.

_those days of us_

OWLs are cruel. But everyone survives it, she supposes. Even Fred and George survived them. (Although if she got a score like then, she wouldn't have considered it _surviving_.) She can do this, she reminds herself, as she grips her quill in her hand and begins to write.

"Brutal," she complains to Harry later, stretching out in the Gryffindor common room. Harry is best to complain to because Hermione will just convince her to study more for her next OWL, and Ron will groan and throw in his own complaints and how his situation was worse. Harry understands that she needs to get it out and doesn't really want commentary. She just wants someone to listen to her.

"I know," he says sympathetically with a light kiss on her forehead. "It's okay. I know my Ginny will survive it." And he takes her hand and gestures towards the sunny scene outside. "A couple hours until lights out. Do you want to—"

"I should be studying."

"Does it matter?"

It doesn't.

_those days of only me [before]_

She's come so close to death, so close, and dragged others close to death too, and it was Harry Potter, _the _Harry Potter, her Boy Who Lived, that rescued her.

Of course it was just because of Ron. She can't get her hopes up. He still looks at her as if she's Ron's kid sister. But one day, she hopes.

_those days of us_

She has a boyfriend. Dean Thomas. But sometimes she forgets this when she looks at Harry and sees his eyes intently on hers, and she blushes lightly. But she shouldn't get her hopes up. Harry is just a good friend. For now, that is. And Dean is kind and polite and never treats her unwell, so she should be happy with him.

Still, when he walks up to her after Quidditch practice one cold winter day and tells her that she was stupendous today, she almost melts.

"Hey," he says, "you want to go for a walk today? Since, you know, I have some extra time and it's Saturday and I think you're free too, are you?"

He's cute when he rambles. She smiles and nods. "I'm free. And I'd love to go on a walk with you."

He smiles back, and she can see her breath come out in short puffs in the cold. "Let's go," he says.

_Let's_ go. Let _us._ There's an _us _now. Well, sort of. And a ridiculously large grin makes its way onto her face, and they walk.

_those days of only me [after]_

On the Hogwarts train home, she sits in a compartment with Luna. She can't bear to see Harry, or Ron or Hermione for that matter even though it's not their faults. She won't cry around him. She knew it was going to happen, and she knew what she had to do. But she can be around Luna. She's _Luna_.

"What's wrong?" she asks when Ginny comes into her compartment. Ginny pauses for a while, wondering how Luna automatically knew something was wrong. She had thought that she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her emotions, especially from Harry, but then again, that's Luna. The girl is supersensory sometimes.

"Life," she finally answers quite melodramatically, but she can't think of anything that's going right. What with Dumbledore and you-know—Voldemort, she reminds himself—and just _life_. Pointless.

"Life is not pointless. There's eighty-eight points to it," Luna replies quite dreamily. She blinks. And stares. And bites her lip and then begins to quietly laugh.

_present day_

They had something.

And he dumped her.

"Ginny, when are you going to get out of that room?" her mother calls from up above. "I mean, we're going to come and pick up Harry soon." She continues to stare at the ceiling and count dots and tries to pull herself together. What happened to the Ginny that never cried, the one that didn't even flinch when that huge dog bit her as a little kid? Definitely unlike her, she thinks, but she really can't bear to see him right now.

Her mother comes up to her room and says softly, "It's going to be okay, you know. Fate will bring it all together."

"No it isn't," she insists with a grumble. "Fate can only do so much for a person; the rest is up to them—me. It' stupid to believe in fairy tale things like fate. Except I can't do anything right now."

Her mother sighs. "I hate seeing you like this, Ginny, you know?"

"Go downstairs," she almost growls. "Just—just leave me alone!"

She's hurt her mother, she knows, but right now she really doesn't care. Just let her wallow for a few more minutes—hours—okay the rest of her life. She hears the door close and footsteps going downstairs and looks back up at the ceiling, counting dots and memories. It isn't long though before footsteps are going up the stairs again and the door reopens. She wonders who it is this time. Her father? Maybe Bill. And when she sees her father comes in, she puts a pillow over her face and pretends that she is asleep.

_those days of only me [before]_

She hates Hermione Granger because she's a know-it-all and not very pretty, even, or so she tells herself. Okay, the real reason is because the girl is so ridiculously close to her Boy Who Lived, and she's jealous. And currently said girl is sitting in the other side of the common room, quill moving at what should be an irrational speed as she works on her homework, oblivious to the redhead's anger and jealousy.

"_My_ Boy Who Lived," she whispers to herself, shooting daggers at Hermione Granger.

And Hermione Granger, who she didn't even know had been listening, looks up from her homework and says, "He hates being referred to as the Boy Who Lived, you know."

Humph.

_those days of us_

"He asked me out, Hermione," she tells the girl. Odd how the girl she used to hate has somehow become her best friend. It became easier to befriend her after she learned that Hermione only saw Harry as a good friend, a brother, and actually liked her older brother, Ron (although why she would Ginny can't quite understand). Not to mention Hermione gave pretty good advice. In fact, Hermione's probably the reason she's with Harry right now.

"Of course he did!" says Hermione. "I'm not stupid, you know. In fact, I think the whole world knows. You're going to get intense hate mail from crazy fangirls and the Rita Skeeter types soon." She nudges Ginny playfully.

She laughs. "I don't really care." He's her _Harry_. After a pause, she suddenly pulls the older girl into a hug. "Thanks for everything you've done, Hermione."

Hermione smiles and hugs her back. "I didn't do anything. That was all you, you know."

Ginny blushes and says, "And I'm sorry for being so mean to you when I was younger. I was a... well, a-"

"Slightly crazy and obsessive fangirl?"

"More or less," she replies with a chuckle. "Sorry about all that."

"It's okay," Hermione answers. "The important thing is you grew up."

_present day_

The door is creaking open again. It's like pick-on-Ginny day, she grumbles to herself as she looks up at her new visitor.

It's Ron.

And she's shocked because Ron was the one person she could depend on to _never _bother her. She knows he feels guilty and he's never good with girls, so Ron never came up to offer her "comfort" and "advice." But here he is, in her room and in front of her bed.

"Go away Ron," she says.

"No," he answers. "Ginny, look, I promised myself I wouldn't bother you because I didn't want to get involved, but I have to. I mean, _look at you_! The Ginny I knew was never like this. I mean, it's like I don't even know you anymore! It's like, who are you?"

"What sort of dumb question is that?" she snaps. "I am who I am, and I am who I was, and I am who I will always be."

"That's no answer."

"That's the only answer worth giving. Now go away and leave me alone, _Ronald_."

"Why are you being so frustrating?" Ron wails. "I mean, you're being such a _girl_!"

"Great insult, Ronald."

Ron stares at her for a second, and she thinks that maybe she's convinced him to _stop bothering her _and just leave her alone. And then all of a sudden, the pillow underneath her head is yanked from below her and Ron whaps her on the head with it.

"Get up," he orders. "I command you."

"Make me."

Ron turns away, and Ginny smirks, and then Ron turns towards her again and begins yelling. "What's it going to take to knock some sense into you? Telling you that we'll be going to pick up Harry any moment now and when he comes here he'll be delighted to see that you're all depressed and gloomy? That people are _dying _out there and you're lying in bed crying about how your boyfriend dumped you?"

Right away Ron knows he's gone too far. Ginny gets out of her bed and yells at his face, "Get out. Get _out_!" And he goes out, leaving his little sister with her blotchy face as red as her disheveled hair and looking as if she could hex him.

She breathes heavily as she sees her brother leaves and begins to go back to her bed to wallow some more. But then she stops. And throws open the curtains and blinks at the sight of the sun.

It's a brand new day.

_these coming days of us_

He will be smiling at her, and she will be smiling at him, and they will be holding hands. A light wind will be blowing but she will be warm from head to toe. And the moment will be perfect, like it has popped out of a book scene or a movie.

And she will look up and count the stars and memories in the sky.

Someday.

* * *

So, this was written for the lovely Lady Phoenix Fire Rose in the Gift Giving Extravaganza of 2013. The preferences were: Harry/Ginny, Harry/Luna, and Harry/Gabrielle, with a genre preference of adventure or romance. Prompts were: Dreams, a near death experience, "fate can only do so much for a person; the rest is up to them", "life is not pointless, there are 88 points to it", "Who are you?" / "What sort of dumb question is that? I am who I am, and I am who I was, and I am who I will always be." / "That's no answer." / "That's the only answer worth giving." Many thanks for supplying these challenging—but inspiring—prompts and preferences!

And yes, I know, it's not my usual style. I've been experimenting with new formats lately. Feedback would be wonderful.


End file.
